Gone Fishing Rewrite
by Maelynn Meep
Summary: Jack and the Doctor are looking for the same thing: A pond with no lousy fish. Stargate Crossover and a rewrite of a six year old story! Aw yeah! :D


**Gone Fishing** **_(Rewrite)_**

_By MaelynnMeep_

The Doctor rummaged through the TARDIS storage, groaning with intense frustration at the fact that it had been three hours since he had started and he still hadn't found what he was looking for. The harsh emotions weren't helped by his current state - alone. Rose. It seemed to him that her recent... departure had burned something out of him, ash being left in its wake. Naturally, he resorted to ignoring the issue entirely, focusing on finding a nice spot he and the TARDIS could relax _without_ any chance of alien invasions, take-overs, infestations or otherwise.

Rolling his eyes, the Doctor huffed. It wasn't there. His loot of findings brought up seemingly random items: two cricket balls, several balls of multi-colored yarn that he was sure had once made up a scarf, blueprints for K9, and the manual to the TARDIS in original Gallifreyan. Grabbing the last item, he made a mental note to chuck that out as soon as he could. Thing was completely worthless.

Large volume in hand he headed towards the last storeroom he could think it would be. In his mind, the TARDIS was laughing. He smiled at the thought of Rose's amusement on how he- No. Almost violently, he derailed that train of thought, reaching the room he was looking for.

And there, the absolute last place he looked, on the top of a pyramid of boxed jelly babies, was the fishing rod. As per usual, the Doctor wondered if he was getting old, or if his ship liked sending him on scavenger hunts. _'She has to get entertainment somehow'_, he figured, picking up the rod and rolling it around in his hands, testing its feel. On the ground, dusty from storage, sat a tackle box. He pondered using it for a moment before shrugging and picking up a few packs of jelly babies instead.

_'Now to find a pond,'_ he thought suddenly. _'preferably one with no fish.'_

-

"Yes." Jack O'Neill sighed with mock euphoria, fishing rod discovered in the dark recess of the last place he thought to look. That was his kinda luck. The "Jack O'Neilll luck" where what you want is usually found within the last viable option. He pondered on how drunk he must've been last time he went fishing to have put the thing in an old telescope case. Made him wonder what kind of random items could be hanging out in weird places.

That last task done he made for the door, only stopping at a sudden revelation. Jack smirked, for once taking his cell phone and throwing it behind him without looking nor caring where it ended up. At the inevitable thump and crash of glass breaking, he only shrugged and continued on his way, locking the door behind him.

He jumped into the Jeep, shutting the door behind him and tossing his duffle in the back. That accomplished he went through the routine he had planned out in his head a few days ago. And if any neighbor of his had seen him turn on the car, tear out the car phone, floor it and throw the phone out the window laughing, he would've blamed work. It wouldn't've been a lie. Nothing could stop him now.

-

The cabin that he had inherited from his uncle was something he rarely used, but whenever he did, hit the spot just right. No noisy neighbors or tourists, real honest-to-God woods out back, a plethora of wildlife and - most importantly - no fish in the pond out back. Fishing was far more about the relaxing than taking pleasure in the killing of innocent animals.

Gathering his pack, Jack smiled in anticipation. He pulled the zipper up on the backpack, hoisted it over his shoulder and walked outside, whistling a tune from a show he couldn't remember the name of. The water was calling.

As he approached it, he found an unlikely and somewhat frustrating sight. A man was sitting on the pier, silhouetted by the rays of sunlight in the afternoon. Jack started at the man's attire. _'Who wears a suit to go fishing?'_ He stared, too put back to be embarrassed.

The stranger turned to look at him with deep brown eyes, gaze showing his being unconcerned of possible trespassing along with what Jack could only describe as 'something else', something... timeless. Jack almost gaped but the man turned back to the water again before that else could be determined and, trying hard not to flounder, Jack's eyes fixed on the stranger's fishing pole. "You do know there's no fish in this pond?" He asked with a purposeful casualness, sitting down next to the strange man.

"Of course." The man said, staring into the water, with _those eyes_, as if it was the answer to his ultimate question. "Why take out our frustrations on creatures that can do nothing but hope that anything we do for them won't lead them into a trap?" The man's voice was also alluring, his accent making him seem foreign but his tone being so soft that it seemed like nothing he could say could ever bear evil.

Jack blinked. _'Well that's a different way of putting it.'_ Obviously this guy got it. Everything that Jack had told everybody about fishing could be explained in that one simple sentence. He stuck out his hand. "Jack O'Neill." He said.

With his free hand the stranger shook Jack's, a stupidly friendly smile plastered on his face. "The Doctor."

"Just the Doctor?"

The Doctor shrugged. The name _Theta_ came to mind, and he almost flinched. Thoughts of past, of Gallifrey, still, after everything, _still_ stung worse than anything in the arsenal of his mind. Except maybe...

Beside him, Jack took the Doctor's lack of response in stride, casting out his line. Slowly reeling back in. In comparison, the Doctor was doing the equivalent of Jack, just slower, savoring the moment here as much as he could. Savoring the peace. Quiet.

Silence. There seemed to be almost nothing to say between the man who had not shooed the trespasser away and the stranger who sat upon his dock. Nature sang its song around them, supplying a gentle breeze and equal warmth from its light. A bird cawed.

"You work in the Airforce?" The Doctor asked, conversationally, peacefully breaking the silence.

Jack shrugged, not looking at the other man as he cast out again. "What gave me away?" He asked, his subconscious hoping the man didn't believe in conspiracy theories.

"Backpack." Said the Doctor, putting down his rod a little to point at the pack's small Airforce logo. "You on leave?"

"Well, we had an incident. It involved frustration, lack of sleep, and pretty much almost losing it." The other man gave Jack a blank stare, and Jack was sharply reminded of the similar look on Teal'c's face at the same phrase. "It means go crazy... nuts... insane... Bonzo..." The Doctor looked at him as if he'd gone all four. Jack sighed, _why was everyone he knew like that?_ "No longer in possession of one's faculties... Three fries short of a Happy Meal... Wacko." He ended without flourish, going back to staring at the water.

"Know how that feels." The Doctor murmured, sounding so sincere it irked Jack. _'He has __**no**__ idea...!'_

"How?" He questioned, trying to reign in his harsh tone.

"Well, not the lack of sleep part." The Doctor ignored Jack's look and continued. "Ever have that feeling that when you get rid of an something, even some_one_, completely horrible, it's gone forever. And then it just comes right back again? Bigger and meaner than before?"

_That_ Jack understood. He smirked. "Yeah. Then you go up to talk to the guy and it's like, 'Could you save us the time and the effort of getting rid of you again?' I mean- What do you mean by 'horrible'?" The Doctor smiled smally, again having been caught talking before thinking. "Are you in the army?"

"Nope." The Doctor had a look at that, as if the army was far too off base for him. _'Ah, so it was a challenge!'_ Jack thought, competitive juices flowing.

"Police force?"

"No."

"Navy?"

"Na huh."

The British accent in mind, Jack (smartly, he thought) sputtered. "Scotland Yard?"

"Ugh! No!"

The only other organization that Jack's immediate thoughts related to Britian popped out of his mouth before he could even think about it._**"Torchwood?"**_

That earned Jack a cocked head and a serious, almost depressed - no wait - heartbroken expression. _'Rose...'_ the Doctor's brain whispered and yet screamed at him. Torchwood's 'ghost' project was the reason he was here, wallowing in self pity and why _she_... she was _there_. Where he could never reach her. In a small voice, he asked. "You know about Torchwood?"

Jack tried to reign in an innocent expression.

Head still cocked, this time in thought, The Doctor wracked his brains about Jack, the name ringing a few bells. Jack O'Neil... or O'Neill? His eyes widened. "You're in the SGC aren't you?" He said, a mixture of shock and admiration flooding his tone.

Jack's became extremely controlled as he tried to fight his own shock, reeling from that even harder than his previously revealing classified information. "I don't know-" He started.

"Oh come off it! SGC, that government organization that was founded when the Americans found the Stargate." The Doctor grinned, having always loved that bit of human history. Their finding of the Stargate and using it to explore new worlds and defend against a whole different kind of enemy. Of course, it had taken about 60 years of research to get it to work...

"Are you a reporter?" Jack asked hopefully, knowing that Hammond (and the freaking _president_) would hate him if that were true.

"No. Stop guessing my occupation. It's annoying. Besides it would probably just be 'Traveler'." The Doctor pondered a bit on the accuracy of that. He suppose his resume could also include defender, historian (maybe...), Time Lord and, if you counted what the Daleks said of him, the 'Oncoming Storm' and 'Destroyer of Worlds'. But 'traveler' seemed to sum it up quite nicely.

Jack looked him up and down, asking, half-seriously. "Alien?"

Finally, the other man nodded without any hesitation. "Yep. Harder occupation that you could imagine. Never get any thanks." The Doctor looked down at his hands, seemingly deep in thought.

"For what?" Jack said curiously, moving closer to what he now knew was an extra-terrestrial.

_'For everything. Your life, world'._ "For saving the Earth more times than you can ever imagine." He said, it coming out a little bit colder and harder than he intended. Jack shifted a bit, uncomfortable. On a good day he would have apologized. On a good day he would still have Rose. The feelings that he'd been avoiding crashed around him like waves from the sea against a rock. One 'thank you'. Was that too much? 'Thank you, for dedicating your life to our safety.' 'Thank you, for giving up everything you love to do what you do.' 'Thank you, for putting us above yourself and those around you.' He shoved his head in his hands, rod forgotten on the pier.

"Thank you." Came the soft reply from the Colonel sitting next to him. It was small, but it was human, and, amazingly, _enough_. The Doctor giggled at the thought, running his fingers over his face, over the tears that didn't quite make it to the surface.

With new, suddenly content feeling, the Doctor faced Jack. "You see... I had a run in with Torchwood recently and... with what happened... my compainion and I got separated."

Everything about the man seemed to make sense now. Jack's eyes softened. "Separated?"

"A different dimension. Never to be reached." The Doctor said simply, tone reflecting the amount of despair in his eyes,

"And you liked this...?" Jack inquired softly.

"Rose."

The reverence in his voice at the name was all Jack needed to hear. "I know how you feel. I... work with someone. Unfortunately, we're both in the military..." He looked away, the whole thing seeming too much.

The Doctor nodded. It wasn't the same, but someone who held the same feelings of 'so close yet so far' was a comfort. "Military. Right. Not allowed to marry other members..."

Jack sighed at lifting the heavy weight of the information he'd just told the stranger. He had never breathed a word of that to anyone, not even Daniel or even Sam herself, save the incident with the Goa'uld mind test, which they'd elected never to speak of. It was kind of nice to speak with it all out in the open, without fear of judgement. They were both in the same boat. There was only one other thing he could think of to say.

"Want to talk?"

**FIN**

**A/N: **So if you recognize this little beauty, then you've been on this site for **six years** (yey! *confetti drops from ceiling*)! And this is not a new story but a _rewrite _using the skeleton of the original which you can still find on my profile. Why rewrite, you ask? This is the story that got me started. It's cheesy (I tried to save it but it's still smells vaguely of gouda here and there) and a weird combo of angst and humor, plus an... interesting... crossover, but its mine and the reason I write as much as I do now. Basically I wanted to see what I could do with my six-years-superior writing skillz (yup used a 'z', I'm that cool) with one of my original fics. And I'm kinda proud of what I salvaged. The tone is the same but way deeper and the grammar doesn't put me to shame. I did leave some of my favorite bits in but now I have some _new_ favorite bits. Enjoy! ^_^

**Note:** Beta? What is this be...ta? UN-BETA-ED. I checked it myself but we all know how _that_ goes so please no asking if I have spell-check. It's a pet peeve of mine... -_- **(EDIT: I don't know if this counts but a review by Susan Hilton fixed a bunch of issues. THANKS!)**

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, I own SG1 and DW. I also keep Misha Collins, Benedict Cumberbatch, David Tennant and a unicorn locked in a fully-functioning TARDIS on my back lawn. Yeah... Not .


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